


Empty Plates

by MajorityRim



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Dinner, M/M, Starvation, talks of their pasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 14:03:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13836291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorityRim/pseuds/MajorityRim
Summary: Will has a sneaking suspicion that he knows why hannibal’s plates are always clean at the end of dinner, but it would be rude to bring it up with the man. Then again, Hannibal tends to inspire rudeness within Will, and he can’t help but try and find a connection between the two of them, even if that connection turns out to be that they both suffered as children in some way.After all, Will knows too well what an empty stomach feels like, and he wager that Hannibal is unfortunate enough to know as well.





	Empty Plates

**Author's Note:**

> A warning for those sensitive to the subject of starvation, and/or not having enough food to sustain oneself. It’s not talked about in great detail, but it is the main focus on this fic, and it’d be rude not to give a heads up before you read.

At first, Will isn’t sure if it is a coincidence that Hannibal never leaves a scrap of food on his plate when he eats, or if there is something about the man's past hiding in the choice to never leave food to go to waste. He wonders if Hannibal takes offence to the fact that somebody would waste a meal he’s prepared when a large portion of a meal goes uneaten by one of his guests, or if Hannibal takes offence for another reason, the type of reason that comes from long nights with a hungry stomach, the type of offence that comes from people being wasteful when not everyone can afford to be so. Hannibal lives so comfortably, and so lavishly, it’s hard to picture the man ever going hungry, and yet— 

It would be rude of Will to ask about it, though if it’s the latter, Will can certainly empathise with the feeling. He knows all too well what it is like to go hungry; his father tried his best, but sometimes it was hard to provide for a growing young boy, especially when business was slow and people didn’t need their boats fixed. Will knows what the ache of an empty stomach feels like, a pain that forces you to curl over, to want to do nothing but eat while the idea of eating makes you feel sicker. He knows what it’s like to run on empty, to stare enviously at other people as they eat as much as they want, as they leave part of their meal behind, too stuffed to eat any more. He has always made the assumption that Hannibal was always as well off as he is now, it’s hard to picture a man who has travelled through a lot of Europe, who has studied and practiced as a Doctor as a man who did not have enough to eat. Hannibal is certainly proud enough to simply be offended that anybody would leave a meal he’s created unfinished, but something tells Will that there’s more to the small upset looks that Hannibal gives an unfinished plate. 

It would be rude to bring it up with Hannibal, and yet Will knows that he undoubtedly will at some point. Hannibal inspires a certain level of intrusive questioning within him, perhaps it’s just that Will spends too much time with the Doctor, but he can’t help but want to pry; not just to sate his own curiosity, but to perhaps find some level of balance between the two of them. If once they were the same, perhaps they can become the same again. Will envies Hannibal not for the life he leads, but for the comfort in which he lives it, it is the sort of life that he craves, a stable and happy life, unaffected by outlying factors. If Hannibal can reshape the pieces to forge himself something new, than Will can too. 

He watches Hannibal carefully the next time that he and Jack are invited to dinner. It’s not that Jack leaves a large amount of food left on his plate at the end of the meal, Jack’s a big man more than capable of finishing the portions that Hannibal serves, but he’s distracted easily, and talks as he eats, often leaving food to go cold, the last of his meal ruined and left neglected on a plate. Hannibal enjoys his food as it is meant to be, hot, and sneaks glances down to Jack’s plate often enough that it’s not coincidence or subconscious. His plate is clean of all its food, Hannibal hasn’t wasted a single bite, and Will’s plate is similar enough that it doesn’t revive any upset glances. Even if there were food on Will’s plate, Will doubts that Hannibal would look over, too distracted by what Jack has wasted for the night. Hannibal’s distaste leaves its own bitter taste in Will’s mouth; he can feel the upset it has caused their host, though Hannibal is far too polite to say anything to his guest about it, Will can tell that he’d rather clear the table instead of leaving the food there to waste any longer in his presence. 

“Do you want any help clearing the table?” Will stands, catching Jack off guard and stopping him mid sentence. Will honestly hasn’t paid that much attention to what’s being discussed, he finds more often than not, Jack wants people to listen rather than discuss, and it’s not like Will himself is all that good of a conversationalist to begin with. Hannibal turns his head slightly, he smiles, but politely shakes his head, always the gracious host. 

“I’ll clear the table, it would be rude of me to expect help from my guests.” He assures, and Will can tell he means it. Hannibal does not expect help from his guests, though he certainly appreciates the offer. Will assumes it’s because most people wouldn’t bother to offer help, not in the circles that Hannibal is from, those sorts of people are used to others doing their dirty work. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, after all it’s more a Class issue than anything else, but Will wasn’t raised with that mentality. It’d be easy to simply sit back down, his ‘obligatory offer’ over and done with. 

“And it’d be rude for me not to offer,” He instead retorts. “You’ve done all the hard work, let me help out a bit.” Usually, he’d press the matter a bit before backing down, Hannibal is consistent in his polite decline for help, he wasn’t raised to accept help just as strongly as Will was raised to always offer it, but this time Will wants to beat Hannibal at his own game. He wants Hannibal to know that he respects every part of the meal, from beginning to end, in the hopes that the older man will open up some when Will begins to pry. He can’t truly pry until Jack has left for the night of course, but Jack always leaves early to return to Bella, Will knows it won’t be long until the two of them are alone and they can properly talk. 

It takes more pushing, but eventually Hannibal concedes, allowing Will to clear the table for him, assuring Jack that he doesn’t also need to help. 

“One house guest in my kitchen is enough, Jack, I assure you that it is fine.” Will hears him explain from the dining room, and he can’t help but a small smile. One guest offering is a nice change of pace, a break from the norm, but more than one must cause alarm in the man; it is his domain, after all, his kingdom, his treasure room, too many guests inside would taint it. Will wonders if that makes him even more special, that Hannibal would allow him back behind the curtain after the meal has been eaten. Knowing Hannibal though, Will’s sure that he’s more curious of what Will is up to, willingly handing over the keys to Will just to see what he will do. 

Will is careful as he washes the dishes, scraping wasted food into the bin, but not bothering to close the lid. Hannibal will see it when he walks in, his eyes will be drawn to it, and he will be reminded of Jack’s indiscretion.

Will really has been spending too much time around Hannibal, it’s not shame he feels at the idea of cheaply manipulating a response from his friend, but a thrill of excitement of what may be to come. It’s a selfish response, but Will is determined to see where it leads, and just what lies in Hannibal’s past. 

Jack leaves without seeing Will again, he shouts from the foyer that he is leaving and will see Will soon, and Will calls back to say goodbye. It’s not polite, but Will doesn’t want to risk leaving the kitchen and being banished from it. Invading forces don’t leave to wave goodbye to their friends, else the natives would keep them out. Will has no intention of leaving until he has at least some idea of why Hannibal dislikes food being left behind; he wants to connect with the man, even if it means exposing nerve endings and prying deep into a life that no doubt Hannibal would wish to keep covered and undisturbed. 

When Will does not come to him, Hannibal seeks him out, his eyes are drawn straight to the trash can as Will suspected, pausing by the door frame before entering to close the lid. There’s a look on his face that is quickly masked, but Will is paying enough attention to notice it. The wasted food bothers Hannibal. 

“Thank you for helping me clean up, Will, though really, you should not feel obliged to do as much, you are my guest.” Will can tell that Hannibal says it more out of obligation at this point, he knows he has lost that particular fight against Will, but does not want to lose face. 

“Where I come from, guests help clean up.” Will shrugs the comment off, stepping to the side to allow Hannibal in next to him. They can clean together, so that Hannibal isn’t standing awkwardly while Will forces him to accept the help, but similarly so that Hannibal cannot insist that Will now leave the cleaning to him alone. “It’s not a big of a deal as you think it is, really. My dad always said it was the least we could do to show our thanks. Especially when we were relying on others for a feed.” 

It’s a bold first step, but Will very much doubts he could ever pry Hannibal open without prying himself open first. Hannibal is more willing to give parts of himself away when he is gaining information on others, Will has noticed it on more than one occasion, he’s noticed it in therapy too. 

Hannibal glances at him without moving his head, and for a moment says nothing. It’s not until his hands are in the sink around the cutlery still to be cleaned that he clears his throat and speaks. 

“Did you often have trouble finding a way to eat?” He questions softly. 

“Still finish as much as I can on my plate just in case i don’t get to eat for a while.” Will replies. This time, Hannibal does look at him, a calculated look that falls into a soft smile; he has been caught, and Will can’t help but silently celebrate the victory. 

“Are you forming a connection, Will? Or is there another purpose in your investigation?”

“You’re pieces are all where they should be, just makes me wonder if I could manage to be the same.” 

“Given that we share similar struggles, pasts that denied us something so common to others.” Hannibal muses. “I don’t believe that I’ve ever brought up my past with you, what led you to make such a correlation?” 

“You always finish everything on your plate.” Will isn’t smug in his victory, it feels much more a relief than anything else, now that Hannibal and he stand on the same bridge. “And you always look offended that people don’t finish your meal.” 

“An artist might look offended if somebody does not fully stop to appreciate their art.” 

“I think if that were the case you’d make a passive aggressive remark, Hannibal.” Will chuckles. “You like letting people know they’ve displeased you, but you keep this anger away from the public eye. You don’t want questions raised.” 

“And yet you raise them.” 

“And yet I raise them.” 

There is silence between the two of them again, and Will wonders if Hannibal is simply going to let the conversation end there. If he does, Will will respect that for at least some time, starving for food never spells a happy childhood, to have so little that even food is a luxury speaks of a great amount of suffering, even if there was otherwise a way to find happiness during that time; he will not press Hannibal to talk, not even Will is that rude of a person. They stand there and clean in silence as the minutes go on until finally Hannibal clears his throat. 

“After my family died, I spent time in an orphanage. Nobody knew that I was alive, and I refused to speak, so any relatives I might have had on the outside waiting had no way of knowing where I was.” He explains while still looking down at the wine glass in his hand. It’s not that Hannibal is avoiding eye contact, he speaks openly, without emotion in his voice, as if recalling a vague memory from the past. “I was small, and malnourished, even before I came to the orphanage, which made me an easy target for bigger children. We were all hungry there, many did whatever they could to get their hands on extra food.” Will doesn’t stop to ask Hannibal why he was malnourished before the orphanage, or what happened to his family. Hannibal has chosen to omit those details, and Will will respect as much. If he does find out, it will be because Hannibal has chosen to tell him, not because he’s chosen to intrude on Hannibal’s privacy. 

“It’s hard to imagine people standing over you,” Will admits. The image is easily enough painted, but it’s hard to see Hannibal in a position where he is not above everyone else. Hannibal gives a knowing smile, brushing hair from his face. 

“There was only one of me, and many many hungry children. When children themselves already flock to taunt what is different, easy targets are painted.” That Will knows all too well. He knows what it is like to have children flock to mock and stomp on you, eventually the numbers become too many, and one cannot stand up to the mob. The two of them are even more similar, despite such different backgrounds. 

“I learnt how to eat quickly, to finish my meals before anybody came, and to take every small crumb that was left.”

“And eventually it became habit, leaving food open for people to take became a phobia more than a necessity.” Will wagers, finishing everything that was left in order to survive had been a compulsion for most of his life, even after he managed to provide enough for himself that hunger was not a common occurrence. 

“It was worsened for a long time, after my Uncle found me and took me home. I was taught how to cook, but I was still afraid that I would lose the food, that others would take it from me. I did not wish to share, and fought violently against anybody who I perceived to be attempting to take away what I had prepared.” 

“What changed?” 

“I moved out to live on my own, and learnt how to share food, rather than to hoard it. I turned my passion into a way to make new friends and contacts, and learnt to make enough for me, and then enough for guests.” 

“See, I never cook or anyone, maybe that’s what I’ve got to do.” Will jokes.

“In order to do what?” 

“Be normal, I guess,” Will doesn’t know how to phrase it, now that Hannibal has brought it up. “You’re— normal? Well adjusted? I don’t know, i thought maybe if you managed to come back from a fucked up situation, and I’m still living in a fucked up situation, that maybe you were the proof i needed to find the way to fix myself.” It sounds stupid as he says it, and Will grows irritated with himself, hands tightening on Hannibal’s benchtop. 

“You place too much pressure on yourself, Will. You will never be afforded the luxury of normality, nor should you strive to sink yourself to such a level.” Hannibal chastises gently, resting a hand on Will’s shoulder. It’s comforting, and somehow helps ground Will a little. Hannibal must have done this before, or maybe he’s simply that at ease with the man that the physical contact doesn’t feel like burning embers against his skin like it does when most other people touch Will. “Your past shaped you into the man you are today, but it did not affect you negatively. I have seen what becomes of people who respond negatively to their past, you instead rose above it. Your empathy is not a result of starvation, and though it it is burdensome, you must not view it wholly as a burden.” 

“How’d cleaning the dishes turn into therapy?” Will jokes wryly. “I just thought that if I could prove we’d struggled with the same things, I’d somehow find the answer hidden in you as to how to act normal.” 

“I could have told you how to do that for free.” Hannibal laughs, the sound rich and warm. “All you must do is adjust your person suit until it fits over you well enough to disguise what other people do not want to see.”

“Yeah?” Will can’t be sure of what Hannibal might wish to hide, what others would not want to see of him, though perhaps that’s because his own person suit is tailored so excellently. “And what are you hiding from the world, Dr. Lecter?” 

Hannibal gives a knowing smile, closer to a smirk, and hums to himself. 

“I’m sure you’ll see in time, Will. If anyone were to succeed in undressing me, I am sure that it would be you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a review, I’m always up for learning how to be a better writer.


End file.
